Waiting Room

Sitting in the Doctor's waiting room listening to the banal local radio station mumbling in the background; not making eye contact with anyone. The ceaseless noise is interrupted by the ping pong of the intercom followed by a muffled voice calling out a name that nobody can hear and all wonder if it sounds like them.

The potential patients make their first eye contact, looking to see who owns the fluffed sounds. Eventually after much eye searching, it repeats and someone stands, hopefully, making their way through to door 1, 2 or 3.

They soon return, at the joy of those assembled waiting, clutching their green and white paper, wondering if they have the right diagnose; if they got the right prescription; if they spoke quickly enough or clearly enough to say what they needed in their allotted 5 minutes.

They leave the waiting room purposefully to complete the last part of the task. To dutifully queue at the Chemist and pay for their boxed or bottled prizes.

Dix

Ill again!!!

I can't believe I'm feeling ill again. Same old, same old. I feel hot and cold, full of yukky phlegm, running nose, headache, knackered, headachy (if that is a word) and cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough. I have always succumbed to things easily but since I had my tonsils out these colds had not been so virulent or often. But I had that grotty flu at Christmas and since then I have gone down with one thing after the other. And it is pissing me off. Today my nose is making a whistling, squeaky noise all of its own accord. It's like it has nothing to do with me at all and is just whistling away on its own. At least it shows I am breathing but hey, think I could do without the side effects and don't get me into the side effect of constantly coughing. I am a woman of a certain age and this constant coughing is well, putting it not very nicely, giving me damp drawers! The weather is brilliant today and all I want to do is curl up on the settee, dozing and watching crap day time TV (not Homes Under the Hammer - I still like that). It's just not fair. Please cold go away, stop my nose whistling, stop me snoring at night like a hog and stop me feeling either extremely hot or shivery cold. I hate being ill. Dix

Feeling ill

Wednesday night it started. I just felt grotty. Nothing I could really put my finger on just felt bit sick and tummy was definitely churning. I feel asleep on the settee and woke up a couple of hours later and felt like I had been battered.

You don't really need to know this (but I will tell you anyway) after a couple of very urgent trips to the toilet and needing to expel from both ends I then felt really rough. I fell back asleep on the settee as our bedroom is a long way away from the bathroom. I eventually went to bed but couldn't fall asleep mainly because I feel like someone has put a belt around my chest and is pulling it tightly. Both my arms feel a bit numb and heavy and food holds no joy for me.

Yesterday I managed to drink a little and wasn't very interested in much else. (Those who know me will realise that it doesn't matter if I go a few days without food - I can afford to!). I just wanted to sleep all the time but when I slept it just made me feel grotty.

Today I still have the pain but definitely feel better - my chest is tight but I think I have just pulled muscles.

Trouble is yesterday was my big pay day - I was due to do 2 shifts and earn quite a bit. So now the end of the month will be just as crap and I have probably pissed off work.

Ah well - just got to keep going. I have another job application to fill in today and hand it today so I shouldn't really be doing this but wanted a quick break and blogging is always a good distraction.

Dix

Book Review - Spike Milligan The Biography

Now I understand that like many people who suffer mental health illness that there must have been times that he was pretty awful to live with but he had achieved so much and created such wonderful work I just can't believe that this 'author' felt that his illness was the main 'thing' of him. It said in the 'blurb' that this book would use Spike's own writing, particularly poetry to understand the man. It didn't. He does mention his writing, he does say what a prolific writer Spike is but mainly he goes on, and on, and on.... about his illness. So What? We know he was probably a manic depressive, we know that this illness can create amazingly creative people - we also know that sometimes it just doesn't. But what we don't know from this book is enough about his creativity, about his wonderful poetry and humour (and yes I know sometimes he gets it wrong - doesn't everyone).

I did enjoy reading this book - even though it made me angry - and I did learn more about Spike that I didn't know but I am glad I got it second hand cheaply and that I didn't invest too much hope in it. I admit that I have yet to read many biographies that really satisfy me as a reader. I fell they are so often sensationalist or shallow and don't let us really know about the subject.

What did I learn - that Spike suffered terrible 'shell shock' injuries twice during the war and this may be why he struggled in later life and also this may have helped him be more creative and funny and also write wonderful life poetry. He loved his children and women! Do I like his work any less - absolutely not - has it enhanced my understanding of his work - no, not very much.

Not a book I will keep but I guess I am kinda glad I read it.

Upset

I have been really upset - my friends dog, Buster has been really unwell and I feel like it is my fault. Boy was throwing stones for him last Thursday and it appears he has swallowed one. He has been really poorly - it blocked his intestine and he has had a major operation. I can't help it but I feel like it is my fault. I should have stopped Boy and even though I did tell him I should have been firmer. I can't stand the idea that that beautiful dog, Buster should be hurt through any fault of mine. His owner John was obviously so worried and I felt so bad as if there was nothing I could do.

Walking on the beach was just horrible with out my dogs, Dobbie's friend, somehow I just didn't have the heart for it. I was so worried he hadn't got through the operation and also heard he wasn't eating - it was so awful. I just kept crying (which was a real show-up).

Anyway as I came home from my dog walk Buster came on his lead to meet me - it was so nice and he even had a little ham because he thought Dobbie was going to eat it. I can see how much weight he has lost but he is starting to wag his tale again and his eyes are bright and he was fairly 'Busterish' so hopefully all is on the mend. It doesn't help me from feeling really guilty though. Maybe I needed a really good cry - not that I feel any better for it.

Work was difficult last night - I felt kinda out of step with everyone and my foot began to really hurt again. I was glad to get home and really rest. Today I am going to go on a really long bike ride as I think physical activity might 'buck me up a bit'. I am a bit worried that the 'old trouble' is returning and that is really not a good thing. So much at stake that is not a good thing - boy being the most important. You can't be a guardian if your a looney.

Bad news

I got a phone call from my brother last night with really bad news - my cousin has died. He wasn't even 40 years old. I can't say I was really close to him - I wasn't, although I saw him last week at his dad's 80 birthday party. It was obvious he was very dark and very low and now I wish I had reached out to him more. I did have a conversation for which I will always be thankful but he wasn't in any of the pictures as he spent most of the time outside. I don't know how he died but I suspect the worst.

It seems like all this bad stuff is going on around me, effecting me and I am keeping my head above water. But last night it felt bad, it felt awful.

Tonight I have to work all night - something I agreed to just keep some money coming in - I am not looking forward to it but has to be done but I am worried on how this will effect my mental health. I suppose this is what my life is about now, struggling with money, struggling with relationships and bad news and just keeping well and keeping going and trying to be creative.

Somebody asked me the other day if I was a 'glass half full or glass half empty' sort of person and I said I was a 'glass half full' but at the moment I am struggling with this and want to say 'my glass is not half empty it is bloody empty'. But hey I know others are having it worse, my uncle and his wife and their three other children for one.

Dix

27th & 28th

On the 27th January 1606 the trial of the Gunpowder plot conspirators began.

Um, this made me think of the latest debacle with this Iraq enquiry. Cases take ages to come to court and then the outcome has already been decided long before the case is heard. Poor old Guy Fawkes was made a bit of a scape goat so history would tell us whereas our politician come out of shit smelling of roses. Or so we should believe.

Gratitude is the best attitude.

Trouble is sometimes people can just be too grateful, too bloody humble so that whatever they are thanking for just makes you want to punch them!

Today in 1813 Jane Austin's novel Pride and Prejudice was first published.

I am not a great fan of this or many of these classic novel - don't mind a bit of Jane Eyre but mainly I find them well 'mindless and boring' but I know others love them. I like things a bit newer. I love Rebecca. It was really sad to hear that JD Salinger died today. Something about 'Catcher' will stay with me forever. Also the suggested link between Salinger's book and possible conspiracy theories has always greatly interested me.

If you're going through hell, keep going.

Ok, I admit, I am going through hell at the moment and quite frankly can see no end to it. And the trouble is there is no alternative but to keep going. (I seriously considered the alternative a couple of years ago and believe me that is just a worse type of hell). Every day I dream that I will have a end to my severe financial difficulties and every day just gets a little worse.

Is it wrong to pray for help with money? I know it is, everything I learnt in church as a child and later as an adult tells me it is but where else can you ask for help when all the alternatives are used up. Guess I am going to hell in a debtors coffin? Guess my soul is becoming bankrupt?

Blogging 2

I am not sure how many people are reading my blog - I suspect mainly my mates and the wonderful man from USA but I felt I needed to explain why I have been blogging the facts and quotes. I am sure some of you are finding them tedious and cliche (I agree they may be) but I need to blog them. You see with out them I would just stop blogging. Every so often one of them prompts me to write something, brings back a memory and I hope is more interesting.

At the moment I am really struggling to find time to write. And it is pissing me off. I have basically cut my work to two days a week and was really hoping that during school hours I would have time to write. I desperately want to write. So why aren't I?

It is the age of problem of time, or maybe the age old problem of not being able to say no. I have been working just about full time up to Christmas and didn't see much of my friends and elderly relatives. Well now that I have more time they want to see me. And for this I am really grateful. My friends and family are really important to me. In fact the year before last my friends and family kept me alive. Now I know that sounds dramatic but it is true. When I was ill it was only them that kept me going and helped me see value in myself and understand that I am loved.

I am lucky to be loved - I thank god every day for family and friends because with out them what would life be.

But I wish I could find time to write, be creative because I feel I have so much to say and really really want to say. I want to write stories, I want to entertain people with my work, I want to shock and pain, and make my readers cry. I want them to read my work and feel. So how the heck to I make this happen?

Answers in the comment box please!!!

PS - why I am so bloody tired all the time (TATT)?

Been a long time gone

I have not written on my blog for such a long time but have thought of it often. So finally remembered my login details and decided to get back into it.

News

I am suffering with one of those grotty virus type colds at the mo. Sore throat, blocked nose, tired eyes, hacking cough and it has drained all my energy. It has really drained my energy and is making me feel just YUK, YUK, YUK!!! I just want to sleep all the time which is really rubbish and haven't managed to get any of the jobs done which I wanted to this weekend. Having no energy is a real drag - mind you I have watched lots of old stuff I recorded on the DVD recorder and enjoyed most of it, especially The Genius of Photography. And have managed to clear down the memory somewhat so I can record some new stuff.

I will finish with a poem by (yes you guessed it) my favourite SpikeY!

NEW MEMBERS WELCOME

Pull the blinds
on you emotions
Switch off our face.
Put your love into neutral
This way to the human race.

London
April 1971

Sometimes I think it would be nice to do this. Just switch of my emotions, close down my reactions and sail along without hassle or pain.

DiH

Just one last note - I am going to church tonight. It is my second time - I found it comforting last time but not sure why? Tell you more later - maybe?

Coming Back

It's coming back
They're coming back
You're coming back
To haunt me.

It's coming back
They're coming back
You're coming back
To break me.

It's coming back
They're coming back
You're coming back
To change me.

It's coming back
They're coming back
You're coming back
To surround me.

It's coming back
They're coming back
You're coming back
To make me doubt me.

It's coming back
They're coming back
You're coming back
To smother me.

It's coming back
They're coming back
You're coming back
Because I am sliding.

It's coming back
They're coming back
You're coming back
Because I am sliding under.

Another hideous day over

Well I have got through another Wednesday. And yes it was pretty bad. It is very strange to have to work in a building with someone who will not respond with me in any way. When I am instructed, ney, ordered to stay down the other end of the building in order not to offend her. Well guess what (excuse me for this) bollocks!! I did speak to her, even though she didn't respond and I did try to just do my job as normal. But God was it difficult. All day I had this nagging tightness in my chest, like a heavy pain of anxiety that just sat there and 'plugged' at me all day. And then I got a headache, a guess it was a stress headache and now I am just thoroughly knackered. Oh well another one over. Next Wednesday will be the same, then the next should be ok, then two more to endure and hopefully it will be all over - until she returns. Of course the decision has been made for me I must leave, I must move on and find something I can do, enjoy, give me some flexibility and a reasonable wage. Hey easy then - not.

Today was my last session on CBT therapy and it went well - I have definitely started to feel better but the million dollar question is can I manage without my sessions. They have helped me understand much about myself and my illness and what has changed since I was last ill five years ago but they have also been an outlet, a place to release the stress of my work situation and without that next week and am concerned at how I will manage. I realise that the situation is not my fault - that you can't make people be kind and compassionate - you can't make people like you - only just get through life the best I can.

Never mind the weekend is nearly here and that is always a good thing. I can make it through the next two days and then rest and sleep and do lots of housework and tidy the garden and write letters and and and. Do I really want the weekend to come?

I really need to read a good book. I have finished a couple recently and haven't started to anything new and I need to. I must sort through my 'books to read' pile and pick one I fancy. Maybe something not too heavy and not too long. Maybe that is not the best reason to read a book but it is an ok reason because at least I am reading something.

Anyway my bed is calling. See ya.

More Spike and me

OBERON

The flowers in my garden

grow down.

Their colour is pain

Their fragrance sorrow.

Into my eyes grow their roots

feeling for tears

To nourish the black

hopeless rose

within me.

Nervous breakdown

Bournemouth

February 1967

Confused Brain


I hope this is going to be a better day
than it feels
I couldn't sleep for worry
Then I couldn't wake my mind.
Am I well at all
Or is it just my brain confusing me.

Hopeless person

October 2008

Dih

Anger

Over the last couple of weeks I have recorded and watched a very interesting program on the BBC about anger called 'Losing it:Griff Rhys Jones'. This program has really made me think and want to challenge my own anger and to understand the role it has to play in my overcoming illness.

It was really interesting to understand how angry grows and how the physical symptoms are very recognisable and so can be stopped before getting too strong. Also to understand that some anger is healthy (part of fight or flight) but even then it should be controlled into a positive outlet.

My situation at work has made me very angry, this is becoming an obsession and then it is making me ill. So a solution is possible. Stop being so angry. Should I forgive the person who I feel has wronged me? And is that forgiveness a way of taking back control in a healthy way or it is just a way of being superior to the other person. (That old martyr for the cause or just want to be immortal arguements). But the truth is it doesn't matter because if it makes me well and it makes my life easier and happier then that is ok.

Don't get me wrong some anger is necessary - you have to be able to stand up for yourself otherwise you just become a doormat and others will take advantage. I believe this can't be helped it is our nature as human beings. But you can tell people that their behaviour is not acceptable in a way as to make it clear how you are feeling but without causing greater upset and politely getting your point accross.

I know if I control my anger I will control my obession and then not become so ill and stressed. Also in the program Griff looked at alternative methods to help you deal with anger like physical activity (in his case boxing) but I realised that I could use the Wii to help me physically work out and that walking the dog on the beach already helps. And Buddist meditation. I have wanted to go back to meditating for some time and I feel that will help. This weekend I am going to get my book and tapes out and have another go. It made me feel so wonderful before and certainly helped my mood and illness. And the quiet time is so lovely - trouble was I kept falling asleep.

I really think this program should be shown to everyone to allow them to think about their anger and how they might deal with it better.

Anyway enough of that for now - just go and watch this program online if you can - it is so worth it. In fact I wish I had kept both parts to watch again when I start to feel angry.

A goodbye to my anger (maybe)

****

Send me simmering then

To my grassy grave

Leave the empty fireplace

Liberate the slave

Look last at buttercups

And the carters lane

The blinds are pulled

The kettle boiled

Was it all in vain?

Spike Milligan

31 August 1990

A good day and a terrible day

Yesterday was a contradictory day. I had a good day at work even though, as per normal I was anxious about it and then just before I left I tried to sort out a problem with someone who is being very rude. And it was like trying to speak to a tree. No not a tree as I love trees. It was like trying to talk to a concrete bypass - one of those slashed through the middle of a lovely area that just sits there unmovable and unhealable and unable to be anything but ugly. The other person was horrible. She told me she hated me. She told me she didn't want to work with me. She said I had 'dropped her in it' at work. She sat with arms crossed and stiff negative body language and said horrible things.

I asked for compromise. I asked that we could work together without the arguing, without the constant bad feeling. But no, she said she did not snap at me, she was not rude it was all me.

And now, as I look back I feel so hurt. This is all about my illness. If I had broken my leg or had a serious operation or anything else I would get sympathy. But no - because my mind broke I am just judged - I am told it is 50/50 because we both have depression. I know in my mind I did nothing to this person - she was just someone I worked with and when I was ill I admit she did not cross my mine. Depression is a serious illness, it is a selfish illness - I admit that but a deliberate illness - no, no, no. No-one would be in the darkness because they wanted to, surely? I didn't want to. I really didn't want to.

And now I don't want to have to listen to this tirade of abuse, this horribleness because I was ill. And the boss just sat there and listened. And do you know why? Because she agreed with it. Because she was allowing her to say it because it is what she wanted to say but couldn't say it. So she used her puppet to be rude and horrible and cruel.

And that is what having a mental illness allows others to do to you. That is what you have to deal with, not just the illness, and the darkness, and the self hate and the paranoia, and the pain, and the distrust of your very thoughts. You have to put up with what others think. Because having a mental illness means you are not perfect, means you can't be trusted to be 'normal' - it means others can speak to you however they want because anything you say in defense will just be 'your illness'. That is what admitting you have depression means.

Today I have to remember the good things. I have to remember that I have many people who love me, that I have friends who have helped me through, that I love my family and my family love me. That I am not a bad person just someone who has a brain that sometimes doesn't behave. Sometimes it is not to be trusted.

I have to remember that each day is beautiful; to wake up; to see the sunshine; to feel the rain; to speak to people I love; (and maybe even to those I don't); to walk on the beach with my beautiful dog; to stroke my lovely cats; to hug my daughter; to tell my daughter I love her; to cuddle up with the man I love; to smell the grass; to see a pile of freshly laudered washing (I know sad but it does it for me); to hear the birds sing; to see my lady smile; to write: to hear and sing along to music; to read a book (good or bad); to smile; to laugh; to care; to love; to be me; to be alive.

A Promise

Every day I think about things I want to put on my blog, ideas, opinions, pieces of writing, photos etc. And every day I don't achieve this. My promise is to try and blog at least twice a week. It means that at least I am writing something at least twice a week.

A couple of weeks ago I attended the MA end of year show at Uni. Some of the work was very good, in fact absolutely amazing. A video piece on memory and reality just blew me away. I just had to watch it and watch it and was lucky enough to see the artist to speak to him. I picked up a novel written as part of the Writing the Visual and managed to read the first 3 chapters but ran out of time. I so wanted to read the whole book - it was good - very good. Some of the work was not so good (or I had real trouble engaging with it - or even understanding it). The trouble is now I really want to do my MA. Next September it would be lovely to be studying again, even if only part time, to be able to put together both written and visual work would be so good. But it is only a dream. My current financial situation will not be sorted in a year, it may not be sorted in ten years!!

This year has been pretty awful for me - my illness, my mental state has been difficult, teetering on the edge of 'that kind of madness'. I know I am lucky that my friends and family have supported me and not allowed me to dive into the abyss but it still sometimes seems very welcoming. It still sometimes seems the answer. I miss Uni so much. I miss the creativity, I miss the conversation, I miss being an aged art student. It felt the most like 'being me' that I have felt since being a child. I wish I had worried less about fitting it and just lived the dream to its fullest extent. But hey, that is me always worrying I am not good enough, always seeing how good others are and missing my own potential.

I have been off line for a while, my hard drive failed. Now it could have just been one of those things and I guess that is what I thought it was and then something really strange occurred to me. The last photographs I uploaded were from the disused mental hospital in Norwich. I published a couple in my last blog. But some were very haunting, they appeared to hold the pain of past patients and were almost painful to look at. Did these photos make my hard drive fail?

A friend managed to save most of my data - he managed to rescue many of the photos but guess what most of the ones from the hospital have gone - only 3 remain - and they were the two I published and one showing my car. Even typing this is making me feel a bit 'creepy up the spine'. Ah well - I will never know and unfortunately I will never get to look at the photos properly.

I really should be in bed as I am very tired - I just want to sleep but didn't want to go to bed without blogging something. I will end with some of my 'words'. A piece I started a while ago and carry around in my latest handbag notebook. I think it is a work in progress.

Contradiction

am i a contradiction?
light and dark
bacon and cream
like chocolate
glass half empty
glass half full
am I
that kinda girl?

do they love me?
do they hate me?
normal.
am i
normal?

i wake to a heavy pain
that turns to feathered happiness
am i
that kinda girl?

do they hate me?
do they love me?
normal
am i
normal?


running, walking
smiling, frowning
unable, static, still
and eating
eating
bread and brown sauce,
cookies and ice
is that the kinda
girl I am?

do I love me?
do I hate me?
normal
am I
normal?

am I
a
contradiction
or
normal?

By DiH

I'm back - poetry and an interesting day

I have been missing from my blog for some time for a number of reasons. Firstly and annoyingly I have had loads of trouble with computer, lost all my favourite places and then couldn't even get online. I am online at mo but not through my usual AOL interface - having to use Internet Explorer (which I hate). Have lost all my friends email (oh why didn't I back them up) and all my favourite places. (Is my bank really a favourite place????). But I am back online and determined to blog.

I have also been unwell - don't want to go into it too deeply but just to say the same old problem. My mind giving way and playing tricks on me - making it difficult to function and have reasonable thoughts - but oh well, hopefully I am coming out of it now. May be more on that later.

I was lucky enough to have the chance to visit a very old and disused building. Someone I know was guarding it and alittle wary of the possible ghosts and goulies so I went to keep them company. This building was an old hospital, an old mental hospital - how appropriate I hear you ask? - but it was amazing and very large. For the last few years it has been mainly used as offices and it appears that the last staff only left a few months ago. I was such a wonderful experience and I was able to take my camera to record the building and to record parts of its history. In places it was very creepy. Like the history of the building and the people within it were still there but in other places it was just large and empty and slightly damaged. Lots of exposed fireplaces and covered wooden panels and signs of people working.

I liked this image because it shows the history - a faded damp and damaged sign that asks a question of a empty, overgrown, disused building. Apparently there was an old chapel in the grounds somewhere. I never found it. I wonder how that would have felt? Outside there was some wonderful trees and the last remenents of some roses once tended and loved by a long gone ground keeper.

I have a hobby - well I have many hobbies but one of them is I like to buy second hand poetry books from car boot sales and charity shops. Anything that catches my eye and could be interesting and cheap. I read them and some I put up for sales on Amazon. It can be a difficult thing, I sometimes really like them but if they are worth lots of money I feel I should sell them. Things being financially a tad difficult at the moment (that's an understatement!!) but sometimes I really don't want anyone to buy them so I can read them again and make them part of me.

This is a poem from a book I found this way. I believe it must be a local writer as it is published locally although some time ago. I don't like all the poems, some I don't really understand but others touch me. So I will publish some here so that others can also learn to love them like me.

The book is called LOVE MORE OR LESS BY SYDNEY CARTER (and is for sale on Amazon!!!). This poem is called ADVICE (page 4)

ADVICE

Do what

You're told

and

Be yourself

they said

Think young

Grow up

Look lively

and

Drop dead

You too

Can be a

Teenage

Centenarian

and Honest

Butcher

and a

Vegetarian.

And this is me today (2) - Dreaming

DREAMPOEM



in a corner of my bedroom

grew a tree

a happytree

my own tree

its leaves were soft

like flesh

and its birds sang poems for me

then

with warning

two men

with understanding smiles

and axes

made out of forged excuses

came and chopped it down

either yesterday

of the day before

i think it was the day before

By Roger McGough

I found this poem today. I read poetry whilst sitting on the toilet. The thought repulses my friend, she is probably right, but poetry is right for this occasion, when you don't have long and but like to read and take your mind off what you are doing. Poetry on the toilet gives me little insights into wonderful language bytes that would otherwise be 'wasted' (sorry terrible pun). Anyway it got me thinking about dreaming and how I love to dream. I love to dream when I am asleep and am lucky enough to remember most of my dreams and I love to day dream even though I feel guilty about wasting time.

Sometimes my dreams are so real that I can not distinguish them from reality. I have dreamed someone is dead and then been really surprised to see them alive and breathing. Or dreamed I have done things and been generally surprised that I haven't - even accusing people around me of undoing them.

Back to dreaming per say. I realise what I liked about the poem is that someone is sums up how I feel about my dreams. But for me it is not two men who take away my dreams but my illness. When I am in the 'darkness' and sit and sit and sit for hours and days to think- the dreams are taken. When I long to escape into 'the corner of my bedroom' into 'a happytree' it is gone. It escapes me and makes me even sadder. And dreaming feels like a tree, somewhere strong and grown with age and experience, somewhere to be whoever you want to be, to be whatever you want to be. And when dreams are gone it is impossible to pin down th day when I stopped dreaming - 'i think it was the day before'.

I love the idea of a happytree - I might make a happytree to hang in my study, I will put pictures and ideas and nice things on it and pin my dreams on it.

That will be nice.

D